National Treasure Redux v3
by White N Nerdy
Summary: REPOST-sort of. It's the film “National Treasure” with yet another new twist. Ian has kidnapped Riley outside of Ben’s dad’s house...but things do not go as planned when his hostage is killed, forcing Ben to take drastic actions.
1. Late Night Kidnapping

**National Treasure: Redux v3**

_Rated T for violence and language._

**Foreword**

_This is part three of my "National Treasure: You Pick the Adventure" aka "National Treasure: A Different Kind of Adventure" repost. The story was first posted throughout June of 2008 and deleted early in November. I'm reposting the storylines into separate stories, by request from the many people who read and enjoyed the original story during its brief four month run here on the site. Please read and review again, even if you did last time. Thank you :)_

So we're up to number three already. Wow. This one starts out like v1 did and has more Ian in it. If I recall correctly, a number of people disliked this storyline because of…well you'll see. Damn, now I feel like I've given too much away. Oh well. You guys knew it was coming eventually :)

And I guess not many of you liked the "Riley and Abigail become friends" ending in v2, because I lost a bunch of readers and reviewers. So that kinda sucked. I'm crossing my fingers in the hopes that there's a resurgence of you guys for these next stories…

**Chapter I: Late Night Kidnapping**

Riley threw open the back door to his old red van and tossed the roll of duct back in amongst the mess of wires and computer parts. Stupid duct tape, wasted on Ben's stupid dad. Riley really wished Ben would have agreed to use the tape on the mean Declaration lady. She practically stole the show with the whole invisible code on the back of the Declaration of Independence thing. She wasn't even supposed to be on their treasure hunt. But now, just cause she knew what a…a whatever cipher it was, Ben thought she was great.

Stupid Ben. Stupid Ben's dad. Stupid mean Declaration lady.

Riley grumbled angrily to himself as he reached into his van to get his laptop. Ben had said get the necessities, but Riley found it hard to part with any of his stuff. He'd practically lived out of his technologically pimped out ride since college when Ben invited him on his search for the Templar Treasure. Now he had to leave it here, tucked away in the dark corner of some parking lot a few blocks from Ben's dad's house just waiting for the feds to come pick it up. And Riley would never see it again.

On top of everything else, it was dark and cold outside, and Riley had left his jacket in the Gates' stuffy house. He was shivering, even with his hoodie still on. He absentmindedly glanced at his watch and groaned. It was after two o'clock in the morning. Way past Riley's bed time. And Riley knew, that Ben knew, that if Riley didn't get a good night's sleep, then Riley would be _very_ unhappy later.

He was wallowing in his own self pity so deeply that he didn't hear another car approaching until it was practically on top of him. He turned and immediately paled when he saw that he recognized the shiny catering van. It was a van with the words "Olympus" written in large blue letters on the sides that had he'd chased all over Washington D.C. That was Ian's van and it was coming, right at him, really fast…

"Holy crap!"

Riley reacted in a second, hopping up and into his van with a yelp, barely managing to get out of harm's way as Ian's vehicle stopped an inch away from Riley's van's bumper.

As soon as the disguised catering van came to a screeching halt three figures leapt out, leaving only the driver and front passenger inside. One of the three moved to the driver's seat of Riley's van, while the remaining two pushed their way into the back and slammed the door shut behind them.

"Hello there, Riley. Did Ben finally come to his senses and abandon you?"

Riley gulped. Ian and his most trusted henchman, Shaw, were staring him down. "No, no…I, uh, actually have to bring him some stuff, so I should probably get going…"

He started to get up but was shoved back down by Shaw's strong hand. Ian fished Riley's keys out of his hoodie pocket and passed them to the front. Then the engine started and the whole van pitched forward.

"Hey! Don't you guys have your own getaway car? Now you've gotta steal mine too?"

"Shut up, Riley," Ian barked.

"What? No way! I—"

But Riley's mouth snapped shut as Ian pulled a gun seemingly out of nowhere.

"Well if you're so eager to speak all the time, why don't you tell me what, exactly, our friend Ben has found on the Declaration."

"I, uh... …we found…nothing?" Riley tried sitting up again in an attempt to get out of the way of Ian's pistol, but was shoved onto this back again by Shaw, much harder this time. But Riley didn't like being shoved, or man handled in any form, so he batted at Shaw's large hands and kicked spastically at him, all the while yelling, "Hey! Quit it, man…get off me!"

Shaw did move away, but only so Ian could bash Riley across the cheek with the handle of his gun. Riley's head snapped to the side and he saw stars for a moment. Then suddenly he was being man handled again as his arms were pulled roughly behind him and forced together at his wrists with what he could only assume was his own duct tape. What a waste.

Ian shoved him onto his back again and Riley blinked up at him. He vaguely remembered wearing his glasses but suddenly they were gone and now the right side of his face was stinging painfully where he'd been pistol whipped. "What's your problem, man…" he slurred.

"I'll ask you again," Ian demanded. "What did Ben find on the Declaration?"

"I dunno," Riley muttered. He really wanted to pass out all of a sudden and ignore his aching cheek. Shaw yanked him up by his hair and he was jerked awake.

"Come on, Riley," Ian growled. "I know how much you love to run that mouth of yours, now why don't you tell me what I need to know and you won't get hurt."

Riley's terrified gaze met Ian's and he saw that the British man was serious. Dead serious. He swallowed hard. "Uh, it was just a…a bunch of numbers…some kind of cipher…I don't remember what it was though." He felt bad giving away even this much, but it wasn't enough for Ian to go by, and Riley was telling the truth when he said he didn't remember the numbers or what exactly they were for. He did remember having to go to Philadelphia, but Ian didn't need to know that.

"It was another clue? I thought it was supposed to be the map?"

Riley tried to shrug, but stopped when he realized how badly his shoulders hurt from his arms being pulled behind him. "So…if that was it, you can let me go right? And my van of course."

Ian sighed and shook his head. "No, I think it would be best for everyone if you stayed with us."

Riley blinked. "Um…what?"

"I need some sort of insurance. A bargaining chip if you will. Ben has the Declaration, and all the clues. I am clearly at a disadvantage. But this is where Ben and I differ—he cares too much, and I'm sure he will gladly give up any information he has in return for your safety. Frankly, I don't care what happens to you."

"What?! But…come on, Ian. We-we're buddies, right? You buy me a new computer, I help you and Ben out with treasure stuff. I-I let you beat me at poker. It's a win-win situation that seems to have worked for a while now and I think we should stick with it and—"

"Do you know what your problem is?"

Riley blinked at him, his mind still a little sluggish from the blow to his face. "That I'm so much smarter and better looking than you?" If he had, in fact, been completely conscious of his situation, he most likely would have said something else.

"No," Ian growled, apparently not amused by the comment. "It's your big mouth."

Riley jumped at a loud ripping sound coming from somewhere behind him. Before he could even respond, Shaw had reached around him with the duct tape and pulled a strip taught over his lips and around his head.

"That's better," he said smugly.

Ian nodded and grinned maniacally down at Riley, who glared miserably back up at him.

"Aw, don't look so down, kid. It's a win-win situation, after all. You don't say anything and I don't feel annoyed enough to kill you..."

Ian looked like he might have wanted to gloat some more, but he was suddenly interrupted by the rumble of a vibrating phone. Riley's eyes widened as he felt the small object in his jeans pocket. It must have been Ben, probably wondering what was taking so long. Ben would help him, Riley was sure of it.

Ian nodded to Shaw who patted down Riley's hips to find the phone. Riley shivered as hands snuck down his sides and reached into his pockets. Soon the little vibrating device was found and Shaw tossed it to Ian, who flipped it open.

* * *

"Benjamin Franklin Gates! I can't _believe_ you are doing this. You know, I hope they catch you…maybe then you'll finally learn your lesson!"

Ben rolled his eyes. "Yeah sure dad," he said as he found the book he was looking for nestled between some old history books. He was quick to hide it in his jacket. "Thank you Thomas Payne…"

"What? What did you say?" Patrick twisted himself as much as he could to see his son behind him.

"Nothing, dad." Ben moved to face his father, holding the remote control for the television out to his free hand. "I'm sorry about this, I really am, but it's something I have to do. Just…" he sighed. "Take care, dad."

With that he left the living room where his father was sitting, confined to his chair with a soda in one hand and the television remote in the other. Ben met Abigail in the entrance hall to the home and grinned disarmingly at her. She raised her eyebrows at him, clearly showing her disapproval of his plan.

"And you'd better take damn good care of that Declaration!"

"We will," Ben called back to his father. Abigail just shook her head.

Ben spied an old coat hanging on a hook near the door and fished through the pockets. "Aha," he said triumphantly, a set of car keys out. He held the door open and gentlemanly gestured for Abigail to go first. She did, sending Ben a smile that he hoped was more playful than criticizing.

"And now you're stealing your father's car," she said accusingly as Ben unlocked the doors to Patrick's Cadillac with the click of a button.

"Well we can't very well take Riley's van anymore, I think that would be a _little_ obvious." He paused just before getting into the driver's seat. "Where is he anyway?"

"Are you supposed to pick him up?"

"He was just getting his laptop and whatever else he needed. He's _supposed_ to meet us back at the house. But that was almost fifteen minutes ago."

"You do realize the FBI are on their way. _Right now_."

"Yes, thank you, I do realize we are in a hurry." Ben sighed, slightly annoyed now, though he wasn't sure who he was more annoyed at—Riley for not coming back to the house or Abigail for being as condescending as she was. "Get in. We're going to pick him up."

Ben sped down the few blocks to the lot where they had left the van, constantly checking his rearview mirror for flashing lights or any FBI looking vehicles. He really, _really_ didn't want to get caught now. Not with the stolen Declaration of Independence and a possible hostage. He wondered what Dr. Chase was even thinking of all this. She'd been happily surprised to see that Ben was right about the back of the document, and now it seemed she wanted to be as involved in the treasure hunt as he and Riley were. The more he thought about it, the more he figured that it wasn't exactly a bad thing to have her hanging around.

He circled the lot, drove around the park, checked every shadowed alleyway in the vicinity but saw no sign of Riley's van.

"Damn it, Riley," Ben muttered.

"Do you think he got cold feet?"

Ben shook his head. Abigail didn't know him well enough to think he would just chicken out and disappear like that. Riley was fiercely loyal to Ben and would always be there for him, unless something happened…

Ben didn't think twice. He pulled his phone out and used his speed dial to call Riley's cell. It rang once, twice…with a click it was answered.

"Riley, where are you? Where's the van?" he said quickly before Riley could even get a word out.

"Slow down, Ben," said a very un Riley like voice. Ben paled and Abigail sent him a concerned look. "Riley's right here. We're taking him and his van for a little ride."

"Ian," Ben growled. Abigail gasped, recognizing the name as being the man that had nearly kidnapped her for the Declaration. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Insurance, Ben. You've managed to hold on to the document and seen the back of it, which puts you a few steps ahead in our little game. I just thought I would even out the score a little."

Ben groaned. He couldn't give up the Declaration, or the new clues, but he couldn't leave Riley to get hurt either. And he knew instinctively that Ian and his goons wouldn't hesitate to hurt the young man. They had made their strong dislike for Riley and his antics very clear through the whole treasure hunt.

"So how do you want to do this, Ben? Are you going to help me get the treasure, or should I just shoot your little friend now and get it over with?"

"NO!" Ben shouted. "No, don't…just don't hurt him. Can I talk to him?"

Ian chuckled sadistically on the other line. "No, no I'm afraid that's impossible. I've shut him up, and frankly I like him a lot better when he's not running his mouth. I don't know why we never considered it before—we could have sewn his lips shut and found the treasure a long time ago."

"Ian, don't…"

"I'll tell you what Ben—you tell me what the next clue is and where you're headed, and we'll meet you there."

"No, Ian. No deal. I want to meet you _right_ now. I want to know Riley's okay."

"Sorry Ben, but we're already on the open road. I wouldn't want to be coming back anywhere near your dad's place. Not with the feds on their way. How was it, by the way?"

"What?"

"Seeing your dad. I'm sure he was thrilled to find out what you were doing."

"Yeah…thrilled. Where should we meet you?"

"'We'? Did you bring him with you, or are you still dragging Dr. Chase around?"

"Ben," Abigail whispered, looking frantically out the windows at their ominous surroundings. "We have to go…"

She was right. They'd been sitting there talking for a long few minutes by now. Ben didn't have that kind of time to spare, and he was definitely too frustrated to try to drive while talking to his mutinous financier.

"Ian, we don't have time for this. Where should we meet you?"

"That depends, Ben. Where are you going to solve your little cipher?"

So Riley had been able to tell him that much, but not where they were going. Ben shuddered, thinking of the horrible things they must have done to Riley to even get that much information from him.

"Philadelphia. We need to get to the Franklin Institute to see the Silence Dogood letters."

"Alright, Ben. You solve your little number puzzle, and I'll contact you in Philadelphia. Deal?"

"Like I have a choice?" Ben grumbled.

Ian laughed. "I guess not. See you later."

There was a click as the call was ended.

"What are we doing?" Abigail asked. "Where are we going?"

Ben started the car again and zoomed forward, heading for the highway. He passed her the book he'd taken from his father's house.

"'Common Sense'?"

"My dad usually keeps a few hundred dollars tucked in the pages. We're going to Phily and we need to change out of these clothes. Then we're going to get Riley back."

* * *

Ian flipped the phone shut and slipped it into his pocket. "See, that wasn't too bad. We're one step closer to the treasure." He smiled down at Riley, who glared up at him in response from where he was lying awkwardly on the floor of his own van.

Ian kept his little staring competition going for a minute before turning to the driver. "How much further?"

"Ten minutes, tops," the man called back.

Wow, Riley thought. They were almost there already? Was that even possible?

As if to answer Riley's unspoken question, Ian explained "We need to switch vehicles. I'm afraid we're a little conspicuous like this. But don't you worry…I've planned ahead."

He leant down and patted Riley's cheek with a smile. Riley flinched away and Ian laughed cruelly.

"This is going to be easier than I thought," he said, straightening up to look at Shaw. "By this time tomorrow we'll be rich men."

Shaw grinned back at his boss. Riley rolled his eyes and turned away from them. He had so many snappy come backs right now that he couldn't even say. It was hard enough to even breathe with the tape over his mouth. He had to consciously suck in every breath through his noise and try to ignore the stinging pain his cheek.

But that pain was easily drowned out by the growing ache in his arms and back. Rolling to his side had helped a little, but his shoulders were protesting every little move he made. He couldn't even feel his hands any more.

Stupid duct tape. Stupid Ian and Shaw and other guys. Stupid Riley, for getting into this stupid mess.

Suddenly the van hit a particularly large bump and lurched forward. Riley found himself sliding towards the front of the vehicle, unable to stop himself with his arms secured behind him. The top of his head hit hard on the jumbled mess of mother boards and other technological stuff as the van came to a screeching stop.

Ian threw the back door open as Shaw grabbed Riley by the collar of his hoodie. He was yanked out of the car rather roughly and fell to his knees on the pavement as his head swam. He looked around and blinked stars out of his eyes, only to find that they were in some kind of an underground garage that was completely empty except for a single compact car parked across from the two vans.

Shaw pulled Riley up by his hood and forced him towards the car. Three of Ian's goons had already squeezed into the back seat, leaving Shaw and Ian to take up the front seats. So where was Riley going to sit?

He watched with dread as Ian leaned down into the driver's seat. A second later the trunk popped open with a slight whooshing sound. Riley gulped.

"In you go," Shaw said.

He tightened his grip on Riley's hood and forced him forward. Riley struggled, he really did. He dug his Chuck Taylors into the pavement and twisted his body this way and that to try to get away. He did not want to get in the trunk. He could not stress how badly he did not want to be in that cramped, dark space.

Shaw, growing impatient with Riley's lame struggling, kicked out the back of the young man's legs. Riley let out a muffled groan and would have collapsed to his knees again if not for Shaw's iron grip on his sweatshirt. With his other hand, Shaw grasped the back of Riley's belt and hoisted him up and off the ground.

Riley was still struggled like mad, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the nausea that was rising in his stomach. But it was no use as Shaw plopped Riley callously into the trunk and ignored the younger man's muffled protests as he slammed the door shut, leaving Riley trapped in the darkness.


	2. Just The Baggage

**Chapter II: Just The Baggage**

He was jerked awake as sudden light filled the darkness. He kept his eyes closed, squeezed tight against the harsh brightness. Then, out of nowhere, someone was patting at his cheek. He instinctively flinched away from the surprising touch, though he wasn't even sure if it was in fact hurting him. It could have been Ben, come to save him at last…

"Wake up, Riley. We're not going to carry you."

Not Ben…that was Ian's voice. His harsh, evil sounding voice somehow underlined with…amusement? Apparently he found the whole situation to be quite funny. Riley still refused to open his eyes, until the light pat became a rough slap to his already stinging cheek. He moaned and forced his eyelids open, only to stare up at two people he disliked very much at the moment. Ian Howe and a man known only as Shaw were glaring down at him, silhouetted by sunlight. They looked very ominous like that, even more so with the manic grins on their faces. Riley wished he'd kept his eyes shut.

He was forced out of the trunk by two hands grasping the front of his hoodie. If he kept getting pulled around like this, he was going to find himself investing in a new sweatshirt when he got out of this situation. _If_ he got out of this situation.

Riley was stood up on his unstable legs with Shaw's constant grasp on him the only thing keeping him standing. His entire body felt stiff and sore, but at least he could now breathe some fresh air into his lungs. Even if it was only through his nose, it was better than nothing.

Once he'd gained his bearings and blinked the fuzziness out of his eyes, Riley took a good look around. They were in another parking garage, or some sort of closed off empty space that resembled a parking garage with very high windows. Maybe it was a warehouse? Or something like that. All Riley knew was that it was empty, save for two black SUVs with Pennsylvania plates and windows that were tinted as black as the paint job.

"…come on, move it!"

Apparently they'd been yelling at him but he'd tuned it out, more concerned about what was going to happen to him than whatever the hell they were talking about. Now they wanted him to move. Sure. He was pushed forward from behind and would have fallen on his face if Shaw hadn't yanked him back up by his hood.

He was practically dragged towards one of the cars, where the rest of Ian's lackeys were staring at him with stupid grins on their faces. He sent them the best "what are you assholes staring at?" look he could muster with his eyes, but they apparently, like Ian and Shaw, found this whole situation to be extremely amusing. Riley wished he got what was so funny, but as far as he was concerned, he was the punch line in their sadistic little joke.

The trunk to one of the SUVs was opened as they approached. Thankfully this trunk was significantly larger than the one Riley had just spent his morning in. It wasn't completely closed off either—it was designed so that a backseat passenger could easily reach back into the trunk space.

Riley didn't even have the energy to struggle as he was forced inside. At least here he could sit up. No one even talked to him. Ian was barking orders about going to the Franklin Institute. Then he said something about time, and Riley found out it was ten to noon. Wow, he'd been in the other trunk longer than he'd thought. He was probably lucky he hadn't suffocated.

They slammed the door to the back of the SUV shut and moved their separate ways. Riley blinked slowly. The fact that he was now able to breathe real oxygen instead of stuffy trunk air was definitely helping to clear his head and he began to wonder what exactly was going on. They were in Philadelphia, right? Ben must have been in the city too, and they were going to make a deal and Riley would be saved.

Suddenly Riley's heart sank as a new thought popped into his head. What if Ben chose the treasure over Riley? He had, after all, been looking for the hidden Templar treasure long before he'd even met Riley. Then he'd definitely be screwed. Ian and his guys hated Riley, and he could only imagine all the horrible things they were planning to do with him if Ben didn't give in to their demands.

Riley shuddered and felt the car start moving. It took off rather quickly, and Riley was slammed sideways against the door of the trunk. He could hear Ian and at least one of his guys talking about something but Riley tuned them out. He was busy staring blankly out the window above him at the bright sky as Philladelphia buildings rushed past.

If there was even a chance that Ben wasn't going to help him, Riley would have to get out of this situation by himself. _How_, he had no idea. His arms were thoroughly numb and his head was pounding. He felt helpless and really, really stupid for even getting into this mess. All he could do now was squirm in the tight space he was sitting, trying in vain to get more comfortable while his mind wandered in circles around some scenarios he hoped for and others he hoped were nothing more than the scary wanderings of his tired mind.

* * *

"…if they want the Declaration back, and not just a box of confetti, you'll come alone."

Ian slammed the pay phone back down on its receiver, letting out a frustrated curse as he did so. Ben had gotten himself caught by the FBI. Normally Ian would see this as a good thing, meaning that he would no longer have to race the other man to the treasure. But apparently he was missing something. Something important that made having the Declaration of Independence pointless. He didn't know how Dr. Chase got his number, but she was quick to call him and convince him to help get Ben out of custody. She was probably just trying to make up for losing the document in the first place.

"What are we doing now?" Shaw asked as Ian came back to the SUV.

"We're going to help Ben escape from the FBI."

"What?!"

"Apparently we still need his help. So tomorrow morning we're going to be at the _Intrepid_, ready with the diving gear."

The three henchmen looked thoughtful for a moment before Powell spoke up. "Wait…we're going to New York? Why?"

"Because according to Dr. Chase the treasure is in the city somewhere on Broadway."

Powell snorted at this in disbelief.

"We have no choice. We need those glasses Ben found."

"What about him?" Shaw said, jerking his thumb behind him at one of the parked SUV's trunks.

Ian's frown changed into a maniacal grin as he glanced at his watch. "It's almost five now. We'll meet at my flat and relax for the night. Maybe celebrate a little with our friend Mr. Poole."

After sitting in hours of traffic, they finally made it into uptown New York City. Riley had slept for most of the drive, panic only making him stay conscious for so long. He had no idea where they were going, or what was going on, or what was going to happen to him…

He jerked awake as the SUV hit a large bump. Riley was used to being jostled around by now, and he actually recognized this particular feeling from moving in and out of parking garages. Riley groaned. That meant they were switching cars again. He only hoped it was a car with an open trunk like this one and not the tight closed space of the first car. He was pretty sure he would suffocate to death this time if it was.

"We're here," a gruff voice said from above him.

He raised his head slowly, his neck stiff from sitting for so long. Shaw was leaning over the backseat grinning madly down at his hostage. Riley blinked. That look alone scared him. The large hands that were reaching down towards him terrified him.

"Hold still," Shaw grumbled as Riley tried in vain to squirm away from his grasp. Shaw slid his hands under Riley's arms and hoisted the smaller man up and over the back of the car seat. He then tore the tape from Riley's mouth, which let out a harsh yell as soon as Riley's lips were free.

"Shut up," Shaw growled as he smothered Riley's mouth with his hand. Once Riley was quiet, Shaw removed his hand, allowing the younger man to finally take a deep, refreshing breath. Ah, oxygen had never tasted so good. He wheezed and gasped and somehow managed to not scream when Shaw tore the tape of his wrists. He winced and actually let out a little whimper as circulation came painfully back into his arms. Then he was spun around by Shaw so he was sitting normally in the seat, facing Ian who was looking back at him from the front of the SUV. Riley gulped nervously.

"Hello, Riley. I'm sorry we haven't seen much of each other since last night. But I'm sure you're no stranger to being ignored for long periods of time."

Riley glared at Ian, ignoring his comment. "Where's…Ben?" he rasped.

"My, Riley," Ian said. "That sounds awful." He twisted around in his seat for a moment and reemerged with a bottle of water. "Here, you must be parched." He set the bottle in Riley's lap.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, thanks." His fingers were sore and tingling like mad as he lifted the bottle up. He struggled with the top for a minute, but was unable to get his numb fingers to grip it.

"Give it here," Shaw growled, impatient with Riley's struggling. He opened the bottle and held it one hand while his other hand suddenly yanked Riley's head back by his hair. He shoved the bottle in Riley's face and forced the liquid into his mouth. Riley coughed and sputtered but was glad to have even a little bit of water in his parched and aching throat. As soon as the attack had begun it was over, leaving Riley to look at Ian again while water dripped off his face and onto his shirt. He took deep, wheezing breaths, willing himself to try to breathe normally.

"Ben has apparently been arrested," Ian said, calmly continuing their conversation as though there had been no interruption.

Riley felt his eyes bulge as he gasped, "What?!"

"And I have the Declaration," Ian said with a smirk as he pulled the canister out from under his seat to show the young man.

Riley felt himself grow even paler than he already was as he realized what this meant. "You…you're going to…k-kill me?"

Riley was surprised to see Ian throw his head back and chuckle whole heartedly at the question. This only made Riley more nervous and he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't think he'd ever seen Ian laugh like this before, and, frankly, it scared him.

"Ah, Riley," Ian said once his laughing fit was over. "You always were the funny one."

Riley's frown deepened. Ian had never thought his jokes were funny. And the situation he was in now certainly wasn't a comical one.

Ian became serious again very quickly. "I had every intention of killing you, but I still need Ben's help. So as long as I need Ben's help, you're not expendable—just an annoying piece of baggage I have to carry around."

Riley glared at him. He was glad they weren't going to kill him yet, but he didn't like being considered a piece of baggage. In fact this wasn't the first time Ian had called him that. Even on their way to the Arctic to find the Charlotte, Ian had called Riley this, and the comment made all of his comrades laugh. Ben didn't laugh, but he hadn't really stuck up for Riley, either.

"I'm going to help Ben get out of police custody in the morning and we're all going to find the treasure. You're coming up to my place for the night." Then, after seeing the surprised look on Riley's face he added, "I can't very well have you sitting in my car all night, now can I?"

"I guess not," Riley muttered.

"Good," Ian said, nodding to Shaw. "Let's go."

Shaw was back to grasping Riley's hoodie in a tight fist as he forced the young man out of the car, and then to hold him up as Riley's stiff legs nearly crumbled beneath him. He didn't get much of a chance to recover, though, as Shaw was already forcing him forward to follow Ian. The rest of Ian's goons were already waiting for him in front of the parking garage elevator.

"Finally," Powell complained. "I thought you were never coming."

"Just had to get the pipsqueak out," Shaw said, shoving Riley hard to emphasize the 'pipsqueak' comment.

That was another nickname Riley hated. Sure he'd been called much worse things in his lifetime—hell in high school alone—but it didn't make it any less frustrating that he was being picked on even as an adult. He grumbled a quick "fuck you" as they entered the elevator, his mind still too tired to come up with anything better to say in retaliation.

Riley spent the elevator ride squashed between five men that were all at least a head taller than he was. Thankfully the ride was a short one as they soon emerged on the lobby floor of the apartment building. Riley couldn't help but whistle in awe. The place was clean and nicely decorated with…was that gold molding on the ceilings? He shook his head. If the lobby was any indication of what Ian's apartment was like, then it was way nicer than any place Riley had ever lived. The only down side was that there was absolutely no one around, save for a young woman sitting behind a desk.

Ian gestured for them to stay out of sight just around the corner of the hall as he strolled up to the woman. "Evening, Michelle," he said sweetly after reading her name tag.

Riley rolled his eyes. It was like watching Ben flirt with Abigail all over again.

"I believe I need you to open my flat again. I've been traveling and away from home for quite a while." Riley could practically see the false smile on the man's face. He peaked around the corner again to watch as Ian pulled something out of his wallet and showed it to the woman.

"Oh, Mr. Bean," she said with a smile. "Yes, it has been a while…"

Mr. _Bean_? This guy really was a criminal, Riley thought. He's using a fake name and everything. Riley poked his head out a little further, trying to see beyond the front desk to the entranceway of the building. There should be a doorman standing around or maybe even a security guard. If he could just make eye contact with someone he could at least pretend he was doing Morse Code with his eyelids.

Riley gasped as he was suddenly yanked backwards by the back of his neck. Shaw glared down at him and squeezed his fist, causing Riley to wince. Shaw didn't need to say a thing—Riley knew to keep his gaze glued to the floor after that.

Soon Ian was back from his little conversation with the receptionist and Riley found himself being herded into yet another elevator for a much longer ride in complete and awkward silence.

"Mr. Bean? Really?" Riley said out loud. He couldn't help it—he just had to say something.

Ian actually grinned down at him. "You didn't think Ian Howe was my only name, did you?"

Riley shrugged. He honestly hadn't thought about it. "I guess it sounds better than _Bean_."

He said this last bit with a note of disgust in his voice and was nudged roughly from behind in response. He took this as his warning to shut up and he did so immediately, not wanting to be forced into silence by duct tape again.

With a ding they were on the seventeenth floor and Riley found himself once again being shoved along down a nicely lit hallway. He counted only one other door on the hall before they stopped at Ian's. These were pretty good size apartments if there were only a couple per floor. But that just meant fewer people were around to hear Riley's yells for help.

He'd barely gotten a look around Ian's apartment before he was yanked to the side and forced a little ways down the hall. There was another door down here, and Riley had a split second where he feared they were going to tie him up again and lock him in a closet or something. It was probably the equivalent to leaving him in a car trunk.

"Get in there," Shaw grumbled, forcing him forward into what Riley found was a moderately sized and very well kempt bathroom. "Do what you need to do and wait for me to come back." He emphasized his statement by shaking Riley roughly by the collar of his T-shirt. "Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah I got it," he mumbled, shrugging himself out of Shaw's grip. "Hands off the material, man."

Shaw glared menacingly at him before closing the door. Riley stood there for a few minutes, listening intently through the door as Shaw walked away. He waited in silence, making sure Shaw was really gone and wasn't going to burst in and grab him or something. After a moment he pushed himself away from the door, satisfied no one was going to disturb him.

The first thing Riley did was relieve himself. He hadn't realized until just then that he hadn't been able to use a restroom since he was at Ben's dad's house. And oh man had he been sitting in the car for a long time, his bladder filling by the hour…

He washed his hands, noting with amusement that the faucet was made of a very shiny gold looking material. He was quick to cup his hands and capture the stream of refreshingly cool water. He splashed his face and lapped up some of it to soothe his still aching throat and dry mouth. After he felt he'd drunk enough water to make up for the past day's dry spell, he raised his head and finally got a glance of himself in the mirror.

It was a good thing he was still leaning pretty heavily on the sink, or else he might have fallen down in shock. The person looking back at him did not look like Riley Poole. He was very pale, even paler than normal, his reflection looking no more than a ghostly vision of his usual pallor. The only parts of his face that weren't pale was the gash on his cheek surrounded by a purpling bruise, the red mark striping his face where the duct tape had been, and his eyes.

Riley blinked. _Are those _my _eyes?_ His light blue orbs were accented by dark smudges, markings that usually indicated a sleepless night spent in front of a computer screen. But these were lined with red, making it look like he had been crying. Had he been crying? Riley didn't think so, but he couldn't really remember much, either. The whole day was kind of fuzzy in his mind.

He splashed some more water on his face and wiped at his eyes, hoping that they would go back to looking like normal. He smoothed down his wild dark hair as best as he could, but no matter how many times he ran his hand through it, he still looked like a semi crazed person. Oh well. At least the dried blood was out of his hair line and he'd determined the bump on his head wasn't nearly as painful as it had been earlier.

And now he was supposed to, what, wait for Shaw to come back and get him? Yeah right.

Riley scanned the room. No window, so there was no way out other than the door. There wasn't even a curtain over the shower, and no rod that he could maybe use as a weapon. He briefly considered hiding behind the door with the toilet bowl lid in his hands before he remembered that that required touching the toilet bowl lid. Gross. He opened the cabinet under the sink and the one behind the mirror he was looking at, only to find that both were empty. Ian wasn't kidding when he said he hadn't been here in a while.

What now? Riley stood at the door, fidgeting and bouncing from foot to foot. He didn't know what to do. What could he do? He had to get out of there, he knew that much. He was certainly in for a rough night if he stuck around at Ian's place. But, he reasoned, they were nice enough to let him use the bathroom and get a drink after nearly dehydrating in the trunk of their car.

Riley shook his head. They were probably letting him use the lavatory so that he didn't lose control of his bodily functions while they were hurting him. Riley shuddered. Yeah, that was probably it. He imagined Ian wouldn't want to clean up after him anyway.

This got Riley to thinking what exactly they _were_ going to do to him. Beat him up? It certainly wouldn't be the first time. But then again the guys that had kicked his ass in the past were kids that just happened to be bigger than he was in school. Shaw alone could probably take on a dozen of Riley's past bullies at once.

Ian would surely be more creative than just knocking Riley around. Riley imagined he had a collection of torture devices just sitting around in another room of the apartment. Knives, needles, an electric chair, a stretching rack… Riley shuddered. As much as he would like to be taller, he really hoped Ian didn't have one of those. Or any of those for that matter. He didn't think he could take it.

Riley wasn't known for having the greatest tolerance for pain. He knew this better than anyone. He could spit out an "uncle" faster than his attackers could blink when he was a kid. There was no way he could withstand a long torture session. Hell he felt sick just looking at other people's blood. If Ian used knives…well Riley would definitely lose control of at least his gag reflex.

No matter what they were going to do, or what Riley feared they were going to do, it all led back to one thing—he needed to get the hell out of there.

He pressed his face against the door and listened to the hall outside again. Nothing. All he could hear was silence. Huh, that's weird. Maybe they were just going to leave him there. He could do some damage to Ian's extravagant apartment…that would be fun.

No, that was too easy. They wouldn't just leave him here. Shaw was just being really quiet outside the door, waiting to scare Riley when he came out.

Riley sank to the floor as quietly as he could so he could press his face against the cold ground. He could just see light coming from the hall illuminating the hardwood floors. There was a reflection off the floor, but it was hard for Riley to tell what he was looking at. Didn't look like people, though. And there were no feet outside of the door that he could see.

He stood up again, perplexed at the situation he now found himself in. What was this, some kind of trick? No one was even paying attention to him. If they'd driven him up and down the east coast securely tied up in the trunk of their car, why would they ignore him now?

The front door to the apartment was only down the hall. Maybe ten feet, at the most. Freedom was ten feet away, but still…

Riley grimaced, clenching his head in his fisted hands. He was so confused, and his still pounding headache wasn't helping anything. He was scared, nervous, uncertain…nothing that he wasn't used to feeling, though that fact wasn't really helping him either.

"Aw, screw it," he finally mumbled, his voice still hoarse and barely audible.

He slowly turned the handle and pulled the door back towards him an inch. Coast was clear. Time to go find Ben and save him from the FBI.

* * *

_Okay, so I've eliminated a bit more from this story, because quite frankly I didn't think that repeating all of Chapter II from v1 (originally chapters 2B and 3B) was really necessary. So I cut it. That way, we could get to the next chapter faster. The chapter you've all been patiently waiting for. And remember, the more reviews I get the quicker I'll consider posting :)_


	3. The Pizza Fan

**Chapter III: The Pizza Fan**

The door was in sight. He only had to go a few steps…the handle was in reach…almost there…

"Riley, just what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned. Behind him, standing together in the apartment's spacious living room, were Ian and his little gang. Riley only had eyes for the door that stood between him and freedom. He hadn't even thought to look and see if anyone was watching him. He blamed this, among other things, on the head trauma.

"I," he cleared his sore throat and winced. "I was…just gonna…"

He made eye contact with Ian who had a mean but slightly amused grin on his face.

Riley didn't think anymore. He dove at the door and yanked it open. He'd barely gotten a foot outside though when he was pulled back by a tuft of his short hair. He cried out in surprise at the pain in his scalp and had a split second of hope that someone would hear him and come to his aid. That hope was dashed when Shaw's massive hand clamped down over his mouth, stifling his cries as he was pulled back into the apartment. Ian closed the door, the smile never leaving his face.

"You can't leave now, Riley. We haven't been able to have any fun yet."

The slamming of the door shut away any hopes Riley had felt that he would get out of there in one piece. He was stuck in the lavish apartment of a maniacal Brit who hated his guts. But there was no way he was going to be taken so easily.

Riley squirmed and kicked and struggled despite how sore and tired his body was. He probably looked ridiculous, especially since his efforts were getting him nowhere. Shaw did not release his grip, even when Riley tried to bite at his fingers.

"You're only making this harder on yourself you know," Ian said as he took an ominous a step forward.

Riley immediately stopped struggling when Ian's fist slammed into his stomach. He felt himself stop breathing altogether as he sank to his knees. Shaw finally let him go, leaving Riley to fall to his hands and knees as he coughed, trying to ignore the pain in his stomach. Because, oh man, did that _hurt_.

Just as he felt he was able to bring his raspy breathing back to semi normal, Riley was hauled up again by Shaw and dragged to another room by his already tearing shirt. He couldn't even yell or scream anymore—he was caught up in another hoarse coughing fit.

Suddenly he felt himself being forced to sit. He wrenched open his eyes, only just then realizing that they were closed. He was surprised to see that he was in a dining room seated on a rather elaborate old wood chair at the head of the matching wood table. It looked like the kind of furniture that Ben's dad would have in his house. He cried out again as his wrists were pulled down to his sides and lashed to the bars on either side of the back of the armless chair. His ankles were similarly tied, each to a separate leg of the chair. He struggled once but couldn't squirm his way off of the chair.

"Hey, come on you guys," he said looking up at Shaw and Ian. He tried to sound brave but he couldn't help the quiver that rose in his voice. "I was…I was just kidding. You know…" He laughed nervously. No one else thought it was funny. "Like I would really…try to escape. I mean, come on…seriously…"

"I honestly don't know why Ben puts up with you," Ian said, shaking his head as he ignored Riley's panicked rambling. "Do you ever listen to yourself speak? You sound like an idiot."

Riley didn't know what to say to that. Even if he had been able to spit out some sort of smart ass—or as Ian would think, idiotic—comment, he would have been interrupted by the shrill ringing of a doorbell.

Ian and Shaw immediately stiffened in surprise at the sudden, unexpected sound. Riley used their second's hesitation to yell for help as loud as he possibly could. But between the sore throat and now aching stomach, the cry hadn't travelled far, and any other sound Riley would have considered making was again stifled by Shaw's hand.

"Keep him quiet," Ian hissed as he disappeared around the corner.

Though he couldn't see the door from where he was, Riley could just hear what was going on over his own sniffling. He'd half hoped it was the cops, or the building's security, or anybody that would be able to help him. But luck wasn't on Riley's side as Ian spoke cheerfully to someone who was apparently delivering pizza. And to Riley's dismay, real life delivery guys never venture any further than the doorway of a home.

Minutes after he'd disappeared from the dining room, Ian was back with two pizza boxes and his other cronies in tow. He set the boxes down on the table and moved to stand in front of Riley.

"Are you going to behave yourself?"

Riley stared at him for a second, wondering how he should respond with Shaw smothering his mouth. He managed to nod his head a little, which was enough for Ian. Shaw finally released his face and stepped away. Riley moved his stiff jaw around and winced. He could still feel Shaw's massive fingers imprinted on his cheeks.

"Good boy," Ian said as he ruffled Riley's hair. Riley flinched away and Ian chuckled as he took his seat.

The thirty or so minutes that followed were the most awkward of Riley's life. That was really saying something, seeing as how Riley's entire life had been awkward. He sat still and quiet, restrained to his chair at the head of the long table while Ian and his partners in crime sat at the other end of the table, eating their pizza, drinking beer, and just talking like normal guys would. Riley heard some conversation about sports, but he couldn't follow not being a sports fan himself.

Not that he would want to partake in their conversation. In fact as long as he was quiet and didn't make eye contact with anyone in the room it was like he wasn't there at all. He stared at his lap and occasionally twisted his hands around in their bonds just to make sure he still could. He wasn't even really thinking. He was just trying to focus on anything but the party taking place barely three feet in front of him.

Riley was just wondering if he could fall asleep sitting up like he was when he suddenly had a weird, creepy feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He slowly raised his gaze to find that all five of his captors were staring back at him with eerie grins on their faces.

He immediately lowered his head again. He had no idea why they were looking at him like that, but he suddenly wished he'd been listening to their conversation, however awful it might have been. At least then he would know exactly what they were talking about.

"You know, Shaw," Ian was saying as he stared at Riley. "I think you're right. He does look hungry. You _hungry_, Riley?"

Riley swallowed. He had been hungry, but he was long passed the point where he actually _felt_ hungry. And now, with Ian looking at him like that, he knew the answer whether he was in fact hungry or not.

"No, uh, Ian," he said after clearing his throat. "Thanks, but I…I think I'm good."

"Really?" Ian was getting up from his seat and so was Shaw. The other three just looked really maniacally happy about something. "You must be hungry. I know for a fact that you haven't eaten anything all day."

Riley struggled in his seat wishing he could back away from them. He didn't like where this was going. Not at all.

"See, I also know that you like pizza especially. You remember, Shaw, whenever we went to dinner with Ben?"

Shaw nodded. "Yeah. Kid wouldn't eat anything but pizza."

"I remember," Ian said as he leaned down on the table so his face was right in front of Riley's. "In Cairo, I believe. We went to a very exquisite restaurant, my treat. All you did was whine and complain that you didn't like the food. And after all that, what happened? Ben took you to get your pizza."

"I just…I didn't mean to…" Riley stammered as he tried and failed to sink further away.

"That's the way it always went, ever since we picked you up." Ian's voice rose with every word, the fury growing on his normally composed face. "Ben would stick up for you over anything. And who were you? You were nobody. The computer geek—the damn sidekick!"

Riley didn't get a chance to respond or to even try to defend himself. Shaw grabbed a fistful of Riley's hair and snapped his head back so he was forced to look up at Ian. He stared with wide, terrified eyes as Ian stepped forward with a slice of pizza in his hand.

"Well Ben's not here now, but I've got you're pizza, right _here_!"

With that Ian forced his hand down and smothered Riley's face with the greasy piece of pizza. Riley couldn't even turn away, not with Shaw holding his head back. He squirmed as Ian pressed the food hard against his face, twisting it to ensure that Riley was covered in sauce and cheese.

Ian finally pulled away and Riley gasped, feeling like he'd nearly suffocated on pizza. But the second he'd opened his mouth to breathe, Ian forced the folded slice between Riley's teeth. And they laughed. Ian, Shaw, and the other three all laughed.

Riley choked and writhed, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried in vain to clear his airway. He was hurt and humiliated, and slowly suffocating on his favorite food. After what felt like an agonizingly long time, Shaw finally released the grasp he had on his hair. It seemed the larger man was laughing too hard to keep his grip.

Riley's head tipped forward. Thankfully the pizza hadn't been forced too far down his throat. He managed to turn to the side and spit the food out of his mouth and onto Ian's floor. Ian didn't even seem to notice. They all just kept laughing and laughing…

Teas stung his eyes suddenly but Riley forced them back. He wasn't going to cry, not over this. He already felt gross and humiliated. The last thing he needed to do was add tears to the saucy mess on his cheeks. He just felt so stupid.

"What's the matter, Riley?" Ian had managed to contain his hysterical laughter and was back to taunting Riley with his words, which was fine by Riley. Sticks and stones, and such. "Too much? I would have thought with your big mouth, you could eat the whole thing in one bite."

Shaw stooped down and Riley watched as he carefully picked up the discarded pizza slice with two fingers, as though it had some sort of contagious disease from being in Riley's mouth. He tore it in half just as gingerly as he had picked it up.

"Let's see if he can take smaller bites," Shaw growled as he came at Riley with the food in hand.

"No, you guys," Riley rasped with panic in his shaky voice. "I don't…you don't have to…I mean…that was on the floor, and that's really gross and I don't think—"

Whatever else Riley was going to say was silenced by the bottom half of a slice of pizza. The entire piece fit in his mouth now and Shaw held Riley's lips shut and pinched his nose so he had no choice but to chew and swallow if he wanted to breathe again. His mind couldn't get over how gross Ian's floor must have been, especially after being dormant for so long. And now all the dust and dirt was in his mouth…

Riley's lungs were burning and he had no choice but to swallow. He did and Shaw thankfully released his face. He took a deep breath and was engaged in yet another coughing fit while Ian and Shaw laughed and drank their beers. Riley kept his eyes squeezed shut, willing this to not be happening to him.

"…I know," Ian said between laughs in response to something Powell had said. "Now you need something to wash it down with."

Riley kept his eyes closed, really not wanting to be forced to ingest anything else. They were drinking beers, and Riley pointedly disliked beer.

Suddenly, rough hands grasped the front of his T-shirt and shook him hard.

"You know, _Poole_," Shaw growled. "It's rude to not even look at your hosts."

He backhanded Riley across his already bruised cheek. Riley hissed in pain and reluctantly opened his eyes, hoping that they didn't reveal how terrified he was feeling.

"You really do look like you could use a good, hard drink," Ian said.

He dropped a heavy, glass bottle on the table in front of Riley. Though he couldn't make out what the label said, Riley figured it looked like some kind of whiskey. Riley gulped. He'd never had whiskey before, but he was pretty sure he already knew he didn't like it.

"Here," Ian said as he popped open the half full—or as Riley liked to see it, half _empty_—bottle. "Take a good long swill of this…"

Before Riley could even think of saying anything or trying to defend himself in any way, Shaw had grabbed a hold of his chin and squeezed his cheeks to force his mouth open as Ian came forward with the bottle.

Most of the liquid ended up being poured over Riley's head where it dribbled downwards and drenched his shirt. The few drops that did end up in his mouth made him gasp and choke. The alcohol burned in his throat and left a very nasty after taste on his tongue. He sputtered and struggled in his chair but Shaw didn't release his grip until Ian had emptied the bottle's contents on Riley's face.

Riley gasped and was coughing again while Shaw wiped his hands off on the still semi dry part of Riley's jeans. They weren't really laughing anymore, but Riley didn't dare look at their faces. He just kept coughing with his eyes squeezed shut, still wishing he was somewhere else. Somewhere drier.

"How about it Riley?" Ian was saying. "Think it's time for some dessert?"

With a huge amount of effort Riley raised his pounding head to see Ian's smirking face. He blinked liquid out of his eyes and glared at his captors. "No," he said as sternly as he could with his quivering voice. "I _really _don't want to have a…a pie or whatever slammed in my face. I think we've all had about enough of this…_childish_ game and I—"

He was silenced by Ian's fist striking the side of his face hard enough to send the entire chair to the side, where it tilted precariously for a moment on two left legs before tipping over completely with a crash. Riley didn't even try to move from his awkward position. He just stayed stuck to the chair on his side, gasping from the pain and shock while silently thanking his lucky stars that his arms weren't bound any further to side of the chair. Otherwise he could have gotten his wrist crushed between the floor and the chair's back.

"Childish?" Ian was saying, his voice menacing and deep. He pulled his gun seemingly out of nowhere and pressed the barrel roughly into Riley's already bruised cheek. "Would you rather I just pulled the trigger?"

Riley was shaking now, his eyes wide with terror as he looked up at Ian's face. The older man was inches away from Riley, his expression creased with anger. Riley tried to choke out a "n-no" in response to Ian's query but was suddenly drowned out by laughter.

Ian straightened and pulled the gun away while he cackled along with his comrades. Riley just stared, still terrified, but now very, very confused.

"Ah, Riley," Ian said. "I couldn't just _shoot _you. Where's the fun in that?"

Riley forced a nervous grin. "Yeah, seriously…"

"Besides," Ian continued. "We need you alive. For Ben, you know."

Riley relaxed slightly.

"But once I have the treasure…"

Suddenly Ian came back with the gun as he stopped laughing and turned very serious once more. Riley tensed as the gun was again pressed to his face. Ian stared hard at Riley for a moment before pulling away like he did before with a grin and a chuckle. He ruffled Riley's sopping hair and leaned in close, still with that maniacal smirk on his face.

"…I'll be rich, Ben will be in prison, and you'll just be another nobody. And hopefully I will never have to see either of you again."

Ian stood up again and shook the liquid from Riley's hair off of his hand. Riley, meanwhile, stared up at him with wide eyes, relieved that Ian wasn't going to kill him, but still nervous and frightened by the man's drastic actions. He was just trying to scare Riley, and Riley couldn't help but think that he was doing a very good job.

"My, my…would you look at the time?" Ian was saying casually as he glanced at his watch. "It's well past midnight. We're going to need to get some shut eye. Big day tomorrow, you know."

Powell, Phil, and Shippen filed out of the room, each sending one last crazy smile in Riley's direction as they left. Shaw especially looked very disappointed that they were done tormenting their prisoner. His last action before leaving the dining room was to kick out at Riley's right shoulder, forcing the chair onto its back and Riley in an even more ridiculous position with his legs sticking up and bent at the knees because of where they were still bound to the chair's legs.

Riley took deep calming breaths, telling himself it would all be over soon. Shaw left the room, but Riley couldn't relax just yet—Ian had returned. He stood directly over the knocked over chair with Riley still stuck to it, now on his back with no choice but to stare up at his captor.

"I really must thank you," Ian said. "If Ben didn't care for your safety as much as he does, then you would be useless. I've always known, for the past year you've been tagging along, that if things were ever not going my way, I would have you as a backup plan. So, thanks to you and Ben's soft heartedness, I was always going to be the finder of the great Templar treasure."

Riley swallowed nervously as he took in this new information. No matter what Ben did, Ian was always going to have the treasure, just because of Riley's and Ben's friendship. Riley couldn't help but feel sick with guilt.

Ian crouched down and Riley noticed that he had something in his hands—it looked like a dish towel.

"We really do have a big day tomorrow, if we're going to get Ben out of FBI custody. Once we do and I can get the treasure, we'll all go our separate ways and forget this whole thing ever happened. But first, I'm going to need some much needed rest, which means that you're going to have to keep quiet."

With that Ian had balled up the towel and forced it into Riley's slack mouth. There was no way Riley could cough or spit it out, especially not in the position he was in. He moaned and turned his head to the side, but still couldn't force the material out.

"Good boy," Ian said patting Riley's bruised cheek while Riley tried in vain to flinch away.

Satisfied, Ian stood up and finally left the room, leaving an aching and miserable Riley on his back at the head of the dining room table. Ian flicked a light switch as he left, immersing the entire apartment in an eerie darkness.

"Good night, Riley."

_

* * *

_

This was my prompt after this chapter during the original post: "What happens next? Will Riley be rescued, and even then…will he ever be okay with pizza again? Orwill Ian need to prove what a true badass he is and kill Riley?" That sounds so silly :) Hmm…I wonder which way I should go next chapter…

_Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the repost of the infamous pizza scene. Look for it again in v5._


	4. Blood On His Hands

**Chapter IV: Blood On His Hands**

Ian had followed through with his side of the deal by not shredding the Declaration, and had even managed to bust Ben out of FBI custody. Granted it wasn't the safest means of escape, but at least the criminals had had the decency to give Ben dry clothes after fishing him out of the Hudson River. And now that Ben had shown Ian the glasses and given him the next clue that would lead them into Trinity Church, the treasure hunter was more than ready to end his adventure.

"Alright, Ben," Ian said as he gingerly rolled up the antique document and returned it to its case. "Let's go into the church and find our treasure."

"No way, Ian. I spoke to Abigail, now I want to talk to Riley."

Ben was furious that his friend wasn't there with Ian, but slightly taken back by the uncharacteristic look that momentarily crossed British man's face. He looked…sad and tired—not overjoyed by the prospect of discovering Templar treasure like Ben had assumed he would. Ben grinned inwardly. Riley had probably driven his captors crazy all night. He figured that Ian couldn't wait to be rid of his obnoxious hostage.

"Ian, I want to talk to him."

Ian shook his weary head. It looked like he was trying to make a very serious decision, but couldn't quite figure out which path he should take. "Let's just go in the church, Ben," he said quietly. "Call Dr. Chase back. Tell her to join us. I'm sure she's still around here somewhere."

He passed Ben a cell phone and turned away, heading for the church. Ben stared after him for a moment, still shocked by his ex partner's behavior. But he shrugged off Ian's actions as he realized how close they actually were to the treasure. The treasure that he'd spent the majority of his life looking for. He'd dreamt of this day so many times…

"Abigail, you're still alright?"

"Ben," she said, sighing with relief. "Yes, yes everything's fine. I haven't heard from Ian, though, what's—"

"It's okay, I got the Declaration back."

She let out another relieved breath. "Oh thank God."

"I'm over by Trinity Church—Ian and I are pretty sure the treasure is in there."

"Alright. I'll be there in a few."

No more than five minutes later, Abigail came jogging around the corner. Ben had been hovering outside of the church's main entrance waiting for her. He needed to make sure that she at least was okay before Ian tried anything. He waved and she immediately saw him, racing forward with a relieved expression on her face.

"Hey, Abigail, I—"

But before he could even say a proper hello to her she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. Ben felt a surprised flush rise in his face as he stared down at her blonde head and somewhat awkwardly patted her back.

As soon as the passionate hug began it was over. Abigail pushed herself away from his chest and absentmindedly pushed her hair behind her ear as though to casually dismiss her previous action.

"I'm…really glad you're okay Ben," she said, finally looking into his eyes. "I was so worried…but Ian was…he was the only one I could think to contact to help you. I'm so sorry…"

"No, it was a smart move," Ben said, clearing his throat to hide his own moment of shocked embarrassment. "I couldn't have been able to stand another night in police custody. Besides…I almost forgot how much fun and potentially life threatening diving was."

She looked critically at him, but he threw her one of his bright smiles and she immediately softened into a smile of her own.

"You're crazy, you know," she said playfully.

He chuckled. "Yeah I know. Now let's go find some treasure."

The pair turned, hand in hand and strolled into the church, taking a second for their eyes to adjust to the dimly lit cavernous space. They moved cautiously down the aisle, taking note of one of Ian's goons following them from the back. Shaw was watching them from where he stood at the third pew, that hard look creasing his bald head as it always did.

Ian Howe stood with his back to the pair in the middle of the aisle directly in front of the altar. When he heard their footsteps echoing through the church, he turned to face them, a grim look on his face. He took a step towards them and Ben instinctively clutched the Declaration closer to his chest, afraid that Ian was having a change in heart and would try to steal it again.

"Ben, Dr. Chase," he said, nodding to them. "So good of you to join us."

Ben scanned the church, his eyes glancing over every pew on either side of him. He felt nervous butterflies go nuts in his stomach when it dawned on him that something was still missing.

"Where is he, Ian?"

Ian glared at him.

"Where is Riley?"

Ian turned his back to them again. "Coming in through the back door, with the rest of my men. Then we're going after _my_ treasure."

Ben growled at that and stared hatefully at Ian's back. The bastard was going to manipulate Ben and force him to go on until he had the treasure in his grasp. It never occurred to Ian that there were more important things in the world than wealth and fame. Even Ben realized this, and he'd been obsessed with the Templar treasure since he heard the story when he was a boy.

Footsteps sounded from somewhere in the church and Ian turned to glance at a door off towards his left, just beyond the first pew on the right side of the church. Powell entered slowly, holding the door open behind him. He briefly made eye contact with Ben before darting his gaze to the stone floor. A second later, Phil stepped into the church carrying something in his arms and Ben couldn't contain his gasp of surprise.

"Riley?" he called in disbelief.

Ben watched in horror, frozen to where he stood, as the man gently lowered Riley to the ground in front of the altar. He was completely limp, and pale, and unmoving…

Abigail gasped as Ben shook his head out of his momentary daze and shoved Ian out of the way so he could get to his young friend. Surprisingly, neither Ian nor his men made any move to stop Ben from kneeling down in front of Riley.

This wasn't real—it couldn't be. Riley was asleep. Knocked out. Something. He wasn't…couldn't be… Ian was a jerk, the kind of jerk who would wave a gun in your face and threaten the people you love to get what he wants, but he would never actually _kill _anyone…would he?

_

* * *

_

Just a few hours earlier…

"Everything is prepared?"

Shaw nodded. They'd spent the very early hours of the morning getting the supplies they would need for Ben's grand rescue. They had no choice but to be ready if they wanted the treasure.

"The diver knows where to go, you have your equipment," Ian mumbled to himself as he unlocked his apartment door. "The timing is good." He straightened up and smiled at his coconspirator as they entered Ian's lavish apartment. "Overall I think this should go by very smoothly. All we have to do is hope Ben follows through for us."

Shaw grinned. "I think he will, whether he wants to or not."

Ian laughed and clapped his friend on the back. "Shaw, by this time tomorrow we'll be rich men. _Very_ rich men."

"You really believe that bitch was telling the truth about the clue and the magic glasses?"

"I don't think she would have anything to gain by not telling us the truth." Ian glanced absentmindedly at his watch. "Help me get our friend to the car, then go and meet Powell at the _Intrepid_. I'll be waiting for you over on Broadway."

Ian strolled around the corner of the kitchen into the dining room. He walked to the far head of the table where the over turned chair still lay with Riley stuck securely to it.

"Wake up, Riley," he said loudly, not relenting as he kicked at one of the young man's legs that were still tied awkwardly to the chair. "Time to go."

There was no reaction from the unconscious form on the floor, and Ian found himself growing frustrated. He crouched down and slapped at Riley's face, taken back for a moment by how pale and cold the his skin was. There was no response, not even a muffled groan. Riley's head just lolled limply to the side. "Come on, wake up."

He glanced up at Shaw with a worried look on his face. Shaw merely shrugged. Ian turned back to Riley with a furrowed brow as he gently worked the wadded up dish towel out of the younger man's mouth, now alarmed by the unresponsiveness of his hostage. He imagined that even if unconscious, Riley would still complain, or at least make some kind of annoying noise…

Ian suddenly felt very anxious as he got a better look at Riley's face. It wasn't just pale—it was colorless. And now, with the gag out of his mouth, Ian could see that Riley's lips had turned a shade of purplish blue. Ian swallowed hard as he put his shaky fingers on Riley's neck and held them there, waiting for a steady thump of a pulse as his own blood grew as cold as Riley's skin.

"What is it?" Shaw could obviously see the tension and panic that had risen in his friend. "Is he…?"

Ian lowered his hand but stayed where he was on his knees hunched over the body before him. He felt something then that he'd never really felt before—anger, guilt, and, surprisingly even for him, remorse.

"He…he's gone," he said quietly before Shaw could ask again.

"What? What do you mean he's gone?" There was confusion and panic in Shaw's usually cold and steady voice.

"I mean he's bloody died, right here in my God damn dining room!" Ian shocked even himself with his shrill yell.

Shaw was silent then, knowing better than to talk back to Ian when he was angry.

"How could this have happened?" Ian asked himself quietly, though he knew damn well what must have happened. They'd left Riley tied up and lying on his back with a towel shoved in his mouth for almost eight hours—more than enough time for the young man to slowly suffocate.

After a tense moment Shaw cleared his throat. "I'll take care of the body," he suggested quietly. "Hide him for now, then dump him in the river later."

"And what about Ben," Ian said, his gaze never leaving Riley's lifeless face. "This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to...to _die_…" Ian choked on the last word as the reality of the situation sunk fully into his brain.

"I'll take care of it," Shaw repeated. He put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, and to both men's surprise Ian didn't shrug him away.

"No," Ian finally said. He wasn't yelling anymore. In fact he sounded exhausted and as though his mind was miles away from his apartment. "We will follow through with the plan and meet Ben at the rendezvous point. I'll have that treasure yet. And if the body of his friend isn't enough incentive for Ben, then I don't know what is."

_

* * *

_

Back to the present…

Ben knelt over Riley in numb shock. It was as though there was no one else in the room—in fact there was no room. Ben's only focus was on the pale face before him.

"Riley," he croaked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His throat had gone painfully dry when it dawned on him that his young friend wouldn't be able to hear him anyway. He gently ran his fingers through the dark, messy hair, cringing inwardly at how cold Riley's skin was.

There were so many things he needed to say to Riley—so many things he needed to thank him for, and apologize to him for—and now he would never get the chance. He couldn't help but feel like this was all his fault. Riley had been kidnapped, hurt, and killed by Ian and he'd been all alone during the whole thing. What kind of a person was Ben, if he couldn't even save his friend?

Ben let out a shaky breath and was somewhat surprised to find tears falling down his cheeks. Benjamin Franklin Gates was not a crier. He was a suck it up and deal with it kind of guy. But now with the realization that Riley, his best friend—probably his _only _friend—was gone, Ben couldn't help but be emotional. Riley was so young…he had so much left to live for. But now it was gone. All gone. And the more Ben thought about it, the more it came back to being only one other person's fault.

Ben slowly raised his head, so his tearful eyes could meet Ian's. Ian, the man he'd befriended and traveled the world with. Ian, the man that betrayed him, but managed to maintain a sense of professional dignity in their little treasure hunting competition. And Ian, the man that had kidnapped and stolen the life of his best friend.

"You bastard," Ben growled in a voice that frightened even himself. But suddenly all he could see was red. He had felt numb and dizzy before but now it was very clear what he had to do as the anger bubbled painfully up inside of him.

"Ben," Ian said softly as he was unable to even meet Ben's eye. "I just want you to know that this wasn't intentional. I never wanted to…I didn't mean…" He shook his head and looked genuinely remorseful. "I'm sorry, Ben. For once I'm being straight with you. You have no idea how sorry I am."

Ian finally looked to the treasure hunter and was startled by the uncharacteristically livid look on the other man's face. He didn't even have a second to react when Ben suddenly lunged at him like some kind of feral animal. The normally calm and composed treasure hunter tackled Ian to the ground with an unintelligible battle cry and pounded his fists against every bit of flesh that he could reach. Ian struggled valiantly, but was no match for Ben's fury.

He struck Ian across the cheek, blackened his eyes, crushed his nose, and eventually popped his jaw out of its socket. At first Ian had yelled for Ben to stop, though his yells were becoming steadily weaker as Ben continued to pummel him until all that could be heard was Ian gurgling on his own blood. In one last valiant effort to attempt to save himself, Ian blindly pulled his gun out of his jacket with a shaking hand and pointed it at Ben. But Ben, still adrenaline fueled by his rage and despair, was quick to force the gun away from himself so it was instead pointed in Ian's direction. A deafening crack echoed in the church as a bullet lodged itself somewhere in Ian's chest.

Ben stayed where he was kneeling over the other man's bloodied and now virtually unrecognizable body. He held the gun tight in his shaking hands and forced himself to look up from the mess he'd created. He found himself face to face with the church's altar, now splattered with blood from the cast off of Ian's face. Ben saw the blood there and on the floor pooling under the body beneath him and he suddenly felt very sick to his stomach. Not to mention terrified at what he had done.

He spun around and saw Abigail staring horrified at him from where she was crouched over Riley's body. And Riley…Riley still pale, and cold, and…dead…

"Oh, God," Ben muttered as he hid his face behind his bloodied hands. How could everything have gone so wrong? Riley shouldn't have died. He wasn't even supposed to have been kidnapped in the first place. It was Ben's job to protect him. Instead he'd taken another man's life in desperation. And rather than feeling closure over Riley's death, he felt terrible over what he'd done to Ian. He was no better than the man he'd just pummeled to death.

"See what you guys did," Ben yelled in his shaky voice as he waved his pistol in Shaw and company's direction who were keeping their distance in silent shock. "No one was supposed to get hurt. No one was supposed to die. All for some…some _stupid_ and for all we know completely fictional treasure!" He was hysterical now and waving the gun around wildly while he tossed around accusations to dispel some of his own feelings of guilt. "You people are…are _morons!_"

Ben accidently accentuated his final statement by pulling the trigger of the gun he was holding. The bullet lodged into the church's high ceiling and out of harm's way, but the shock of the sudden blast forced a very tense, very frightened Shaw to react. He raised his own gun, and before anyone could even think of reacting, he pulled the trigger.

Ben stumbled back with a cry as Shaw's bullet ripped through his side. When Ben could hear past his own shock and pain, he heard Abigial scream, followed by very near sounding police sirens. Someone outside in the busy New York City streets must have heard the shots coming from inside the church and called 911. Shaw, Powell, Phil, and Shippen responded quickly and dashed out of the back of the building, leaving Ben and Abigail alone with the bodies of Riley and Ian.

With a lot of effort Ben moved forward and fell to Riley's side with a pained grunt. Abigail was staring at him, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. He was surprised to see tears on her cheeks, reminding him of the tears in his own eyes. She looked from his face downward. He followed her gaze and was surprised to see his shirt was stained with blood that was flowing freely from the gunshot wound he'd sustained to his torso.

The sounds of wailing sirens grew closer and closer as Ben's eyesight grew dimmer and dimmer. Ben forced himself to look at Riley's pale, dead face one last time before he finally fell in an unconscious heap at his best friend's side.

* * *

_Don't worry kids—in the other version of this one Riley lives. I just wanted to get this story over with. Thanks for as always for reading and reviewing :)_


	5. A Funeral Scene

**Chapter V: A Funeral Scene**

He opened his tired eyes with a groan and saw nothing but white. White and the very fuzzy image of a blonde head hovering over him.

"Ben? Ben can you hear me?"

Sure he could hear her, but she sounded weird, like there was a stuffy echo in the room. When his mind had gained a bit of clarity, he had to ask a question of his own.

"What…?"

"Oh, Ben," Abigail said as she gave him a quick and gentle embrace. "I'm so glad you're okay."

With her help he was able to sit up a little more and get a good look around. He found he was in a sterile hospital room sitting on the bed with an IV in his arm and a lot of bandages around his midsection. He tried asking her again…

"What happened?"

She looked at him with a relieved smile that didn't match the sadness in her eyes. "Well, after you passed out the police arrived, and then the paramedics and the FBI. They caught up to Ian's friends and arrested them while you went to the hospital. I had to stick around and explain everything to your friend Peter Sadusky."

Ben paled. The FBI agent that would no doubt have Ben put away for a long time just for escaping custody. And then for murder? He put his head in his hands with a groan. He'd killed Ian—he didn't think he could ever forgive himself for taking another man's life, even if that man had betrayed him. There was only one person he knew who could bring a little bit of light to such a depressing and trying situation.

"Where's Riley?" he asked softly.

Abigail frowned and stared at him with sympathy in her glossy blue eyes. She choked on her words for a moment before something coherent finally left her lips. "He…he's in the coroners, I think. He was…he was killed, Ben. Remember?"

"Yeah," Ben said with a shaky sigh. "I remember." He wiped his hand over his eyes that had suddenly started to tear up again. "I guess I just kind of hoped that…since we were in a hospital…that he was…maybe…" He finished his statement with a helpless and distraught whimper.

"I know," Abigail said as her own tears formed in her eyes. "I am so sorry, Ben."

She wrapped her arms around him as he finally broke down and sobbed onto her shoulder while she stroked his head. They were like this for a good ten minutes before Ben finally regained his composure and eased out of her comforting embrace.

"What's going to happen to me?" he said quietly as though he really didn't want to know the answer.

She gave him a puzzled look. "You? Well you had surgery to remove the bullet, but the doctor said you'll be fine—"

He shook his head. "No, no…I mean with the FBI and for…for killing Ian."

"Oh," she said as she forced a tired smile for his sake. "You don't have to worry about that."

"I don't?"

"No. I told them everything that happened in the church. Sadusky has concluded that everything you'd done was just because you were forced to as long as Ian had Riley. And then you killed Ian out of self defense."

"I did?"

"Yeah. And you know what else?"

He shook his head. She leaned in closer to him and he was surprised and even a little horrified to see her mouth turn into an uncharacteristically giddy smile.

"They found it," she said breathlessly. "They found the treasure."

Ben blinked in surprise. "What? Who did?"

"The FBI! They followed your clues and searched the church. They found a tunnel that led into the church's catacombs, and there was a whole cave that went on for miles under ground. And the treasure! The Templar treasure was real, just like you said it was!"

It took a while for Ben to process this information. And even when he did he was still more confused and depressed than happy. He'd spent his entire life searching for this treasure but now, after everything that had happened he felt nothing for it.

"How long was I out?"

"A while," another voice answered.

Ben looked up and saw his father standing in the doorway of the hospital room. The older man looked relieved to see that Ben was awake, but Ben was shocked to see that Patrick was not alone as he entered the room.

Ben's jaw dropped. "Mom?!"

Patrick had his arm around Emily's waist as they approached Ben's bed. "Hello, sweetheart," she said softly as she reached down and gently grasped his hand. "Your father and I have been very worried about you."

"But you…" Ben looked from her to his father then back again. "How're you…what…?"

Emily saw that her son was at a loss for words so she answered his questions as best as she could. "Abigail called your father after you were shot and your father had the decency to call me. We've been catching up here at the hospital while you were sleeping." She sent a sly look to Patrick, who winked back at her.

Ben was horrified. His parents had been apart for almost thirty years. They couldn't even stand to be in the same room together. But here they were, in a New York City hospital room, "catching up." Ben shuddered.

"I'm very proud of you, son," Patrick said. "Thanks to you, the treasure was found and they're crediting it to the entire Gates family."

"What about Riley?" Ben muttered.

The elder Gates blinked stupidly at him. "Who?"

"_Riley_," Ben growled angrily. "Riley Poole. He helped find the treasure. Hell, he lost his _life_ trying to find the treasure. And now we're just supposed to forget about him and go on with our happy lives? I'm not going to jail, we're all heroes…even you and Mom are talking again! But somehow I don't feel any better about any of this. I just feel guilty and it…it _sucks_."

No one said anything after that. Emily looked confused—she didn't even know who Riley was, or what he had meant to her son. Patrick just stared sympathetically at Ben while Abigail turned her face away as though she'd found something in the hallway more entertaining to look at. Ben didn't want to see any of them.

"Just…just go away."

"But Ben, honey—"

"No, mom," he yelled. His mother and everyone else in the room looked shocked by his outburst. "Everybody just leave me alone. I don't want to deal with any of you right now, so _go away_."

Ben was grateful that no one argued with him. He half expected his father to chide him for yelling at Emily, but no one said anything. They filed out of the room, each of them sending Ben a pitying look. Before Abigail left, she pressed a loving kiss to his forehead. He didn't even acknowledge her existence.

Then they were gone and Ben was finally alone, but somehow he didn't feel any better.

* * *

A week had passed since the treasure was found and Ben found himself standing in a grassy field on an ironically beautiful sunny day. Abigail held his hand tightly in her own while Patrick and Emily stood a little further back. All four of them were dressed in black.

Ben watched through teary eyes as the heavy wooden coffin was lowered into the ground. He heard sobbing and took a moment to look at the other funeral attendee. Besides himself, Abigail, his parents, and the priest there was only one other person at the foot of the grave. She was older than Ben, but only by a few years. Her thin black hair hung to her shoulders while she sobbed with her face buried in her hands.

Ben wasn't surprised at the low guest list at the funeral. Riley hadn't made any lasting friends in school—besides Ben, of course—and the only family that came was his young, single mother who was distraught that she was burying her only son.

Ben found himself watching her more than the funeral proceedings. He hadn't even spoken to her yet. In fact he had wanted nothing to do with Riley's funeral. Sadusky had set up the whole thing, including contacting Riley's mother. The FBI agent regretted not being able to attend, but sometimes saving the country from criminals was more pressing than funerals.

The casket disappeared under the earth and was buried. The presiding priest closed his book and stood in revered silence for a moment before leaving the grave site to do whatever priestly duties needed attending to. Patrick and Emily were preparing to leave as well, and after giving Ben and Abigail tight hugs, they both left in Patrick's car.

Abigail squeezed his hand gently, and Ben had to again pull his gaze from Riley's mother. He turned to Abigail, who had unshed tears swimming in her eyes. She got on her tip toes and kissed Ben on the cheek.

"I'll meet you at the car," she said softly before turning and walking down the hill towards the parking lot.

Only two people were left at Riley's grave side, Ben and Riley's now somewhat composed mother. Ben wanted to talk to her, to engage in a conversation about anything. This was his best friend's only family, after all. Riley had spoken very little of his mother during his life, and Ben only had the pleasure of meeting her once when she showed up at Riley's college graduation. Riley had tried to steer her away from his friend, almost as if he was embarrassed by her, which only made Ben more eager to talk to her. Their mother-son dynamic was certainly a unique one, and it fascinated Ben to see how similar and yet completely different the two were.

He recalled that day, only a couple of years before, and couldn't help but chuckle. But the vision faded and he found himself staring down at Riley's headstone as the reality of their present situation shattered his pleasant memories. He stood a few feet behind Ms. Poole's slight and petite form, and wondered if she was reminiscing on the past as well.

"Hey, Ms. Poole," he said quietly.

She actually jumped a little, much like Riley probably would have if you snuck up behind him while he was absorbed in his computer work or something. She'd obviously been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard Ben come to stand next to her. She looked up with teary blue eyes and her mouth twitched into the slightest hint of a smile. "Oh, hi Ben," she sniffled. "I would say it's nice seeing you again and everything, but…considering the circumstances…" She trailed off with a whimper and swiped at her nose with a handkerchief she held tightly in her fist.

Ben watched with a heavy heart as she tried and failed to compose herself. He wondered how much information Sadusky had given her when he informed her of her son's demise. Ben was sure that if the woman knew the gory details surrounding Riley's death she wouldn't be so quick to talk to Ben, or to even acknowledge his presence. Either way the treasure hunter couldn't help but feel sick with guilt. She reminded him so much of Riley, from the short stature, the thin, dark hair, and the wide blue eyes that sparkled up at him.

"I'm so sorry," Ben finally blurted, his voice quivering again as new tears of his own threatened to fall. "This was all my fault. I got Riley into this mess, and if I hadn't…if I could…then he'd be…" He couldn't help it—tears slipped down his cheeks and he let out a quivering, pathetic sob.

Ms. Poole instinctively wrapped her arms around him and held him while he cried, much like she would have held her own son. They were like this for a while before Ben finally pulled away with a sniffle. She reached up to gently wipe the tears off his cheeks and cupped his face in her hands. Then she looked up at him with a forced but bright, youthful smile. A Riley smile, Ben noticed sadly.

"You're a good man, Ben," she said, forcing the emotion from her voice just enough to keep her words steady. "And I am so glad Riley had you for as long as he did. You were like the big brother he never had, or maybe even a father figure…as weird as that sounds. You were more than I could ever be for him."

"That's not—"

She placed a finger to his lips to shush him. "No, don't try to tell me I'm wrong when I I'm right. I love my son very much, but I know I wasn't the greatest mother in the world. I only wish I could have been better for him, while he was…you know…" She trailed off again as her gaze drifted downwards to Riley's headstone. After a quiet moment she let out a shaky sigh and swiped at her tear streaked cheeks. "Look at us," she commented when she noticed similar streams on Ben's face. "My boy wouldn't want us to just stand here crying over him. He would want us to live happy lives."

Ben still didn't say anything, though he knew she was absolutely right. Riley lived his life to the fullest and always had a silly grin on his face. And Ben knew he should do the same, for Riley's sake at least.

"So go, Ben," Riley's mother whispered with a nod to Abigail who was watching them from somewhere further down the grassy knoll. Apparently she'd never made it to the car. "I'll be fine. You go live a happy life."

Ben wanted to say something, he really did, but all he could do was nod stiffly at her request. She smirked at him one last time before turning her attention back to her son. Ben knew then that their conversation was finished, and he said nothing as he turned numbly to walk away. He wondered if he would ever see her again.

He was barely ten feet from Abigail when he decided he needed one last look, just to make sure Ms. Poole was really as okay as she claimed she would be. He was surprised to see her sitting cross legged on the lump of dirt while her hand absentmindedly tracing the letters carved into the tombstone before her. _Riley Alexander Poole, 1981-2005_. _Son, Friend, and Treasure Hunter. _Her lips were still turned in a familiar Poole smile while they moved, and though Ben couldn't hear what she was saying he knew she was holding an innocent and completely natural conversation with her deceased son. Ben actually smiled when he saw her laugh whole heartedly at something she must have said, completely oblivious to how ridiculous she looked sitting there. But at least he knew she would be alright.

"Rest in peace, Riley," he finally muttered.

END

* * *

_So this chapter changed a little bit from when it was first posted last year, mostly because I've since then defined Riley's mother as a canon character in my own little National Treasure world. Originally when I wrote story, I had Ben meet Riley's mom at his funeral, but I didn't really think of her any further than that. For those of you who have read some of my other stories know that she's become quite a character. In fact I regret now having her killed off in "Losing His Touch," but then again she wasn't really been developed at that point. I know a lot of stories around here peg Riley as a foster kid with crappy parents or whatever, and it works for some people, but quite frankly I don't see it that way. I like thinking of Riley growing up with his a young, single, quirky, and very incompetent mother. But that's just me. Obviously not many others agree, or I would be a hell of a lot more successful around here, based solely on how popular said foster kid stories are._

_Anywho, that was my spiel, and just so you know you guys might be seeing more of Ms. Poole in the future, provided I actually finish the things I've started. But at the rate things are going right now the chances of that happening are slim to none. Never fear! The reposts will continue as the final two, and I guess most epic versions of the story will be posted in the near future. Hopefully._


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